


Pound Cake is Not a Sexual Reference

by emwebb17



Series: Tumblr Fics [7]
Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Cockles, Food Sex, Intracrural sex, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-10
Updated: 2013-07-10
Packaged: 2017-12-18 09:36:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/878354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emwebb17/pseuds/emwebb17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Misha and Jensen have differing methods for making a cake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pound Cake is Not a Sexual Reference

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a Tumblr prompt for fabricatedmistress: I really want a cockles fic where misha is baking a cake and jensen tells him how much he loves his sweets, seducing misha. and then it leads to sex in the kitchen and cake batter may or may not be involved. Please?

“I swear to God, I have never seen that much poop in one place at one time in my life.”

Misha turned to smile at Jensen over his shoulder as he rinsed off the last of the lunch dishes and put it in the dish drain.

“I mean, three is not even something I can fathom.  How on earth do you and Vicki do it with two still in diapers?”

Misha brushed some crumbs off the white granite counter top and into the sink.  The kitchen was black, white, and stainless steel.  Very modern; very Danneel.

“Well,” Misha said as he turned around to lean on the counter, “we flip a coin to decide which child gets taken care of each morning.  And then we only have to deal with one.”

“Funny,” Jensen said, leaning beside him close enough that their arms brushed together.  “Seriously though, you two are like superhuman or something.  If we ever have another kid, it will not be until this one is potty trained.  Better yet, we’ll wait until JJ is old enough to babysit for the new one.”

Misha just chuckled.  Jensen didn’t like changing diapers.  And he didn’t like getting spit up on.  And he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t pick his daughter up when she was sleeping lest he wake up a screaming, crying monster in her stead.  But when he looked at her and held her, he looked like he was holding the sun, the moon, and the stars in his arms.  And this from the man who had said for so long that they “weren’t interested in having a baby.”  Misha hoped Danneel would be able to take a somewhat firm hand with JJ because Jensen was already wrapped around her teeny, tiny chubby little baby finger.

“So,” Misha said.  “I was thinking we could bake a cake.  For after their nap.”

“Only West is old enough to eat cake.”

“Who said it was for the kids?”

Jensen laughed and watched Misha walk over to the refrigerator, crossing his arms and smiling lecherously as Misha bent over.

“I don’t know, dude, D is doing her best to get the baby weight off.  If she finds cake in this house she might de-ball you.”

Misha gave him a look as he returned to the counter with his supplies.

“And I like your balls where they are,” Jensen said with a waggle of eyebrows.

“Get the flour and sugar,” Misha said dryly, but gave Jensen a swat on the butt as he passed.

Jensen had to search through a couple of cabinets and the pantry before he found the dry ingredients—so sue him, he didn’t do the cooking.  Misha had pulled out the super duper professional grade Kitchen Aid stand mixer they had received for a wedding gift from some relative and watched in a little bit of awe as his at times technology-challenged lover managed to set the thing up with no trouble at all.

“So what are we making?” Jensen asked, placing a hand on Misha’s hip.

“Pound cake,” Misha replied, stepping away from his touch to soften the butter in the microwave.  Jensen scowled and picked up a white container.  He made a face.

“Sour cream?  Why do you have sour cream out?”

“Because I’m making a sour cream pound cake.”

“That sounds gross.”

“It’s not.”

Misha returned with the butter.  Jensen leaned close for a kiss and got Misha’s turned cheek. “Can you look and see if you have any chopped nuts in the pantry?”

Jensen scowled again but dutifully went looking for nuts.

“Not peanuts, Jensen,” Misha called out.

“I _know_ ,” he said back like he wasn’t an idiot and discreetly put the can of Planters peanuts back on a shelf.  He saw a small bag with a blue top that looked like it had some crushed up nuts in it.

“Are diced pecans okay?” Jensen asked reading the label.

“You mean pee-cans?” Misha asked.

“No, I mean peh-cahns,” Jensen enunciated as he returned to Misha’s side—one of his favorite places to be.

Misha gave him a look and snatched the bag away.  “Whatever, hick.”

“Yank.”

Misha grinned.  “I really am so far from being a Yankee.”

“I know.”  Jensen leaned close and nuzzled the hair beside Misha’s ear.

“I need to find a Bundt pan.  Can you add the sugar to the butter and makes sure it gets blended together?  Don’t turn it up too high.”

Jensen stayed partially bent over where Misha had left him hanging.  He picked up the measured sugar and dumped the whole thing in the mixer with the softened butter.  He cranked the machine up two clicks.  His mood improved a little when Misha had to bend over again to look in a cabinet for whatever the hell a Bundt pan was.  Jensen stalked across the kitchen and took Misha’s hips in his hands.  Misha stood up and their bodies were pressed flush together.

“Found it!” he said cheerfully holding up a pan with a bunch of curves in it.  “Danneel really has this kitchen well organized,” he continued, walking away from Jensen and his sad attempt at generating an erection against Misha’s firm ass.  “Maybe I should make her come over and organize my kitchen.”

Misha hummed to himself as he added more ingredients to the mixer.  Jensen decided to change tactics.  He walked back over to Misha and leaned on the counter, watching and waiting for the opportune moment.  Once all the ingredients were in and well mixed, Misha turned off the mixer and lifted the top portion.  Jensen reached out a hand and gathered some of the dripping batter onto his finger.  Misha couldn’t help but to watch as he licked the digit clean, sucking the tip into his mouth and then releasing it with a soft pop.  Misha blinked and looked up at Jensen’s eyes—blown pupils and possessive hunger stared back at him.

“Un-uh,” Misha said, scraping the batter off the beater a little more aggressively than was strictly necessary.  “There are three very young impressionable minds in the next room over.  One of whom is old to understand—”

Misha cut off when Jensen presented a batter covered finger to him.  Without further thought he took Jensen's whole finger in his mouth and began to suck enthusiastically.  Jensen repressed a growl and stepped closer, his cock filling out his jeans and brushing teasingly along Misha’s hip.  Misha let the finger slip from his mouth, and closed his eyes and swallowed.  Jensen moaned softly at the suggestive movement and swiped his finger through the batter on the rim of the bowl.  He smeared a bit on the bolt of Misha’s jaw and bent down for a taste.  Misha braced his hands on the counter and tilted his head to give Jensen better access.

“Mm, Mish, you’re right.  This sour cream whatever tastes great.”

“Pound cake,” Misha breathed, sliding a hand up into Jensen’s hair, holding him in place as he kissed and sucked on his neck.

Jensen chuckled against his skin.  Misha let go of him and used his hips to push him away.

“I swear if you make some sort of sexual joke involving pounding—”

“What?” Jensen murmured, moving back in and circling his arms around Misha’s waist.  “You’ll get jealous you didn’t think of it first?”

Jensen kissed behind Misha’s ear and cupped his groin with a hand pulling him back so he could finally grind his needy cock against Misha’s sweet ass.

Misha hummed in surprised pleasure and then pawed unsuccessfully at the hand on his crotch.

“Come on, Jay, right here?  Now?”

In reply, Jensen buried a hand in Misha’s hair and pulled, exposing more of his neck to Jensen’s lips; his hips continued to work a steady rhythm where Misha’s ass cheeks cradled his hard member; his other hand groped and fondled Misha’s dick until it was full and heavy in his hand.

Misha put a hand to Jensen’s wrist, but didn’t try to stop him as he worked open his fly.  He slipped his hand inside, forgoing the over the top underwear foreplay altogether and going straight for skin to skin contact.  Misha groaned loudly and then cut it off abruptly.

“Shit, Jensen, if we wake them up—oh, fuck, _there_ babe—they will be cranky little shits.”

“Then you better be quiet, Mish.”

Jensen kept his lips sealed over Misha’s neck—no worrying about covering up hickeys in make-up during hiatus—and reluctantly released his grip on Misha’s body to get his own pants open.  He hooked his thumbs in Misha’s jeans and underwear and pushed the garments down over his perky ass to the backs of his thighs.  Jensen ran his hands over the white cheeks and gave them a squeeze.

“Could use some sun here, baby.”

“Shut-up.  I’m sure they’ll be spray tanning us in a few weeks.”

Jensen made a face.  He hated the spray tans.  Using a foot he kicked Misha’s legs apart slightly and then guided his throbbing cock between Misha’s thighs—slicking the soft skin with precome.  Misha bit back a moan and threw his arms over his head to clutch at Jensen’s neck.  He wiggled his hips and felt Jensen glide along his perineum until he hit the back of his balls—and then poked out past them to the side a bit.

“Jesus Christ, babe—your cock is so fucking hot and thick, I feel like I’m straddling a fucking summer sausage here.”

Jensen laughed.  “Thanks for the comparison, I guess.”

“No, I mean it,” Misha moaned wantonly, undulating his hips.  “You’ve turned me into a total size queen.”

Misha reached a hand down and cupped Jensen’s cockhead, palming it as it poked in and out between his legs as Jensen thrust lazily into the warm embrace of Misha’s thighs.  Jensen reached around Misha and began stroking his dick languidly, spreading precome down the shaft, massaging his balls, and then gripping tighter on the upstroke.  Misha let out a noise and tossed his head to the side, using Jensen’s shoulder to hold it up.

“Jensen, baby, it feels so good.  You make me feel…so fucking good—unh!  Mm, do that again.”

Jensen complied and starting canting his hips up when he thrust forward so that his cockhead dragged along Misha’s perineum on each pass.  Misha’s breath began to come faster and he pulled at the hair at the nape of Jensen’s neck and opened and closed his fingers around the wrist that pumped his cock.

“So, big, Jay…fuck I can almost feel you in me.  It would be so good—so fat and thick, filling me up—”

“Misha,” Jensen growled a warning in his ear.  They could not do that right now.

“Stretching me…so full—I’d be so tight for you, babe.  Ready to feel your hot come paint my insides, just fucking—mmph!”

Misha stopped talking as Jensen shoved two batter covered fingers into his mouth.  He sucked greedily at the digits and increased the rhythm of his hips.  Jensen pumped Misha’s dick faster and felt himself teetering on the edge as his cock glided through the silky smooth skin of Misha’s thighs.  He worked his hand furiously until he felt Misha tense and scream quietly around his fingers, catching his come as best he could in his hand.  And then he pulled back and angled up, driving his cockhead into Misha’s taint, his seed spurting up onto Misha, and then dripping back down over his quivering cock.

They both panted raggedly as they came down from an almost mind numbing high.  Jensen pulled his fingers out of Misha’s mouth and caught him under the jaw, forcing him to turn his head up and back so that he could kiss him.  They were still too out of breath for a real kiss, but their lips and tongues came together again and again with obscene smacking noises.

“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?!”

Jensen and Misha started violently, pulling apart and trying to get their pants up.  They looked guiltily at where Danneel stood in the entryway, one hand on her hip, the other holding a shopping bag.  Jensen held his come covered hand behind his back.  They glanced at each other.

“Um…” Jensen started.

“I can’t believe you two are baking a cake!  You _know_ I’m on a diet!”  She let out a frustrated noise and turned to stomp out of the kitchen.  “And you better not have psychologically scarred my baby with any weird noises!”

Misha giggled and leaned against Jensen.

“Told you cake was a bad idea,” Jensen said, still a little winded.

“I don’t know,” Misha said, dipping a fingertip into the bowl.  He brought it up to Jensen’s lips and smiled when the man kissed the sweet batter off.  “I bet we can bring her around.”


End file.
